Red Letter Day
by Aiselne Phoenix Nocturnus
Summary: St. Valentine's Day is a treasured date for a certain red-haired grim reaper. Grell can only hope that someday, somehow, it might become just as special for Sebastian. One-Shot.


_**Red Letter Day**_

**SUMMARY**: St. Valentine's Day is a treasured date for a certain red-haired grim reaper. Grell can only hope that someday, somehow, it might become just as special for Sebastian.

**GENRE**: Drama/Romance  
**RATED**: PG-13 / T  
**NOTABLE CONTENT**: Mature Themes  
**PAIRING(S)**: Grell/Sebastian

**COPYRIGHT NOTE**: I don't own _Kuroshitsuji / Black Butler  
_**STORY TAKES PLACE IN**: Generally anytime during the series

**COMMENTS**: I am sincerely sorry for being absent in the past few months, especially since the holidays. This winter has been kicking my butt. But somehow, amid my snow-shoveling-induced exhaustion, this little plot bunny stubbornly stuck with me through thick and thin...and probably maintained my sanity. Writing is my ultimate therapy. :) Hopefully this story will brighten somebody else's day, too. Enjoy!

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_Dedicated to Princess of Heart 11; fellow author, Grell/Sebby shipper, and a wonderfully caring friend. :)_

**Red Letter Day  
**_Aiselne P.N._

It was not as though Grell needed a special occasion to celebrate all that was red and ravishing. _Every_day might as well have been St. Valentine's Day for him. Still, it was nice when everybody _else_ was in the lovey-dovey mood, too…

Well, everybody except the devilishly handsome butler with whom Grell dearly wanted to celebrate this winter night. After releasing a melodramatic sigh, the redhead pouted playfully. "Really now, Bassy! Would it kill you to quit playing hard to get for just _one_ day out of the year, hmm?"

"Evidently, yes," retorted Sebastian, effortlessly parrying the chainsaw blade that whirred past his face. With the immediate threat out of the way he gracefully sidestepped beside the townhouse's snow-covered chimney, ever thankful the building was empty this time of year. No need to entangle others into the violent perversities dubbed "celebrating" by a psychopath.

Most ladies were thrilled to celebrate St. Valentine's Day over a candlelit dinner, exchanging chocolates, or dancing the night away. Grell Sutcliff expressed his love by swinging a death scythe at the man of his dreams. "Honoured" was not the first word to pop into Sebastian's head when pondering his situation.

After straightening his suit—and relieved to find not a tear in his perfect ensemble—Sebastian unsheathed a fistful of moonlit cutlery. More so were the knives for defense, as he learned long ago that offensive maneuvers tended to spur more unnecessary action from the crazy shinigami. Grell lived for the chase, after all, hence why he initiated yet another ridiculous death-match with his favourite prey.

"As…entertaining as this must be for you, Grell," began Sebastian, his voice a far cry from amused, "I do have other obligations to see to—"

"Oh pleeease!" Grell interrupted with a passive wave of a gloved hand, not believing the butler's words for a moment. "First of all: it's the middle of the night, sweetie. Your little master is fast asleep back home, along with the rest of his servants. What 'obligations' could you _possibly_ have at this ungodly hour?" True, demons need not sleep, thus Sebastian probably kept himself busy puttering around the Phantomhive manor until sunrise, but was any of it uncompromisingly necessary? Grell doubted it.

"And secondly…" he trailed, making no effort whatsoever to conceal a naughty little smile. "Nfu, I have not yet begun to 'entertain' yoou, devil darling~"

Suddenly Grell's chainsaw became the _secondary_ reason why Sebastian defended himself.

"I suppose it would be foolish to assume _you_ might have previous engagements of your own to attend to, reaper?" Though Sebastian knew it was even more foolish to hope for William T. Spears to suddenly appear and drag his troublemaking subordinate back to work. The poor butler could not be that fortunate.

Suspecting Sebastian's thoughts, Grell smirked knowingly. "Lucky for you, your lady is as free as a bird right now. She worked extra hard all day long in order to devote aaall of herself to you tonight~!"

The butler simply rolled his eyes. "You could not have possibly worked that hard if you've still got enough energy to fight and sputter such vulgar dribble."

But to Sebastian's minute surprise, Grell actually looked a tad offended. With the hand not holding his scythe, Grell defiantly put a fist to his hip. "Au contraire! St. Valentine's Day is an extremely busy day for yours truly I'll have you know."

"I can imagine," but that did not mean Sebastian _wanted_ to imagine how a depraved creature spent his holidays, least of all St. Valentine's Day. If Grell's reputation was any indication that pervert probably went into overdrive, acting more obscene than usual, all to lure some unfortunate bloke(s) into his bedroom of horrors. Whoever thought Halloween was the scariest holiday of the year never crossed Grell Sutcliff on the fourteenth of February.

In his defense, Grell was disappointed by the butler's (though not unfounded) assumptions. It was one thing to jest and tease, but did Bassy honestly think that way about Grell? "Hmph! I'd appreciate it if you did not look at me as though I were some penny dreadful whore, Sebastian."

It was never a good sign when Grell properly addressed the butler, but Sebastian took his chances. Truthfully, "I would appreciate it if you gave me a reason not to."

Hardly one to ignore a challenge, the red-haired reaper clutched his scythe subtly. The more their conversation stung Grell's pride, the more he wanted to attack Sebastian for reasons aside foreplay. Verbal fighting lacked the pleasure of crossing weapons, but Grell stood his ground in any situation.

Grell exhaled his vexation in another white puffy sigh, averting his gaze to the beautiful winter panorama that was nighttime London. For most people St. Valentine's Day was over, whereas the supernatural beings of the night were only starting to have their fun. Though Grell would be lying if he claimed he had not enjoyed himself throughout the _rest_ of the day…

"You are a devil, Bassy, and do I love you for it," spoke the reaper with a tinge of unexpected sadness in his voice. "But you are also woefully naïve when it comes to emotions. Naturally you cannot possibly fathom the sacred occasion that is St. Valentine's Day."

Frankly, Sebastian could care less. Human holidays held no value to a demon, especially holidays of a religious nature. But being a butler, it was not Sebastian's place to quibble over beliefs—his job was to prepare the chocolate sweets and ensure Ciel's day with Lady Elizabeth went without a hitch. Sebastian's opinions and understanding, or lack thereof, were irrelevant.

"I will not deny my heedlessness of human beliefs and emotions," Sebastian spoke truthfully, unabashedly. "However, I also highly doubt one who embodies death can be considered any more knowledgeable."

The grim reaper flashed a matter-of-fact smile. "Aaah, that is where you are wrong! Love and death are souls mates, after all. If you ask me, St. Valentine's Day is the most idyllic date to die, which is why I always fill my ledger to the brim with assignments of all varieties all over England! What better day to savour romance, redness, reapings, and all those other delectably R-rated things~?"

Sebastian was the one to sigh this time. "Why am I not surprised that you would misconstrue a holiday to suit your immorality?"

"'Misconstrue'? Hardly!" Grell countered with a theatrical wave of his free hand. His other lifted his chainsaw, its blade reflecting Grell's beaming face. Many people had been on the receiving end of that death scythe today, and the roster filled Grell with utmost accomplishment. "Painting the town red with bloodshed, watching a soul pass from one plane of existence to another; agony and release all in one heart-wrenching final moment together—why, Shakespeare himself could not conceive a more poetic holiday.

"Everywhere I've gone I've witnessed another bloodily beautiful melodrama." That was when Grell raised his other hand to count on his fingers. "First assignment: those young lovers who fell through thin ice whilst skating, hands still clasped after their lungs' final breaths. It was rather touching."

Touched or not, Sebastian remained stoically silent.

"Second came the old man," continued Grell, almost nostalgically. "His family's patriarch. He perished quietly in his sleep, surrounded by two generations of weeping loved ones. I could tell his wife took it the hardest, but she held an impressive upper lip.

"Number three was a schoolgirl, a nasty little imp who enjoyed tormenting the family dog. Rotten brat. But who would've thought when the pup finally ran away that she'd chase after him, let alone shield him from an oncoming coach?

"Oh, and later was the businessman who shot his colleague of twelve years. Apparently that gunshot determined the victor of the victim's adulterous wife. I'm looking forward to reaping her soul when the time comes.

"Aaand then there's always at least one loveless, pitiful sap who would prefer to die than undergo yet another St. Valentine's Day alone…"

Sebastian's raised hand paused whatever else the shinigami was about to say. "As fascinating as your long-winded oration is, Grell, do get to the point."

"Is it not obvious, Bassy?" shrugged the reaper. "In every case, love—however true or twisted—played the lead role. _That_ is what St. Valentine's Day is all about to me, and this is how one grim reaper celebrates. That is why I hold this holiday so close to my heart."

Whether it was to prove a point or make a pun, Grell's hand found its way to the left of his chest. Amidst the chilly wind combing through the reaper's carmine locks, and the moon glowing ethereally against winter's blanket of snow, Sebastian found the sight almost enchanting. It certainly was not a sight he often associated with Grell of all characters. Even a demon respected one who spoke the utmost truth, and not only had Grell done that, his words and demeanour were pure passion. Emotion.

But Sebastian suspected more behind Grell's words, more than what he originally expected when the shinigami first darkened his doorstep.

The god's emerald eyes almost dazzled behind his red frames. "There's an old adage that people show their true colours in their final moments, and you might be surprised how often 'love' is that very colour. It may be a different shade of love—the soft pink of familial warmth, the flaming passion of romance, or the dark rosewood of forbidden desires—but in the end, it's all the same."

Whether or not it was the allure of the evening, or something more, Sebastian noticed the space he had previously established between him and Grell was gradually depleting. No longer was the predator lunging at his prey; Grell dematerialized his scythe and approached slowly yet steady. Sebastian was less inclined to disarm himself, but Grell showed no hint of fear when his dainty hands clutched Sebastian's lapel. The demon expected to be pulled to the reaper's slightly shorter level, losing a kiss, but Grell surprised him again. The blunt sides of Sebastian's knives were harmlessly sandwiched between two chests when Grell affectionately pressed his cheek to Sebastian's own heart.

"You are a devil, Bassy," Grell repeated, though his voice was much deeper than before. "I realize preaching to you above love seems silly, but I also want you to understand me…and what I feel for you." It was probably a long shot, but Grell never minded taking the road less traveled. He preferred fighting (literally and metaphorically) for his men.

Another smile tugged Grell's lips as he nuzzled deeper into Sebastian's chest, silently overjoyed that the butler had yet to tear away. Clearly, the devil was caught off guard by this open, never before experienced display of affection. "Love is different for everybody, so it can be learned. _You_ can learn. I did, and the funny thing about it—though don't you dare laugh—is that when I was human, I believed I'd be forever loveless."

Despite the circumstances, Sebastian's curiosity was piqued. He wanted to dispute the shinigami's words, to claim Grell was lying; how ridiculous it was to imagine Grell Sutcliff not being some macabre poster boy/girl for romance. But as before, Sebastian sensed the sincerity in the reaper's voice, even if his words implied the opposite.

Or did they? For when Grell was human…

_Loveless._

"Was that how you died, Grell?" The butler got his answer the moment Grell's body stiffened, realizing he had said too much. Even if he wanted Sebastian to uncover the truth, that did not make the truth any easier to swallow. "The 'loveless, pitiful sap who preferred to die than undergo yet another St. Valentine's Day alone'?"

For a long moment Grell remained silent, preferring to bask in the warmth of another man…something he never had in his previous life. But that was well over one hundred years ago, and Grell was not the type to waste time reminiscing like some old fogey. He had gained so much as a shinigami: a career to be proud of, friends he cherished, someone to love, and the strength and confidence to actually _be_ himself. Those were things Grell's past self would kill to have. At least he did that much right.

"Indeed, today is the most idyllic date to die, Bassy."

Grim reapers did not have birthdays, but this was close enough for Grell, and every year he celebrated as only he could…albeit alone. But as Grell raised his head to peer into Sebastian's beautifully red eyes, the blushing reaper liked to think he would not be quite so alone this year. He tugged the demon's lapel, drawing their lips close and whispering before contact.

"But it was through death that this one particular, spectacularly sanguine soul came alive." And Grell Sutcliff was damn proud of it. He was finally happy, and he wanted to share such euphoria with someone who also deserved to be free. "You needn't wait as long though, Bassy. I'm sure you have no intention of dying anytime soon, but being a slave to humanity's ignorant, unjust society is no way to live, either. I know."

Never before had Sebastian remotely humoured the slimmest possibility that he shared anything in common with the crimson shinigami. Grell had not divulged every detail of his lackluster human life, but Sebastian connected the dots—rather easily. At some point in their lives both men had been guilty of pretending to be things they were not. It was more acceptable for Hell's greatest devil to play manservant to an earl, after all. And a boy dared not show attraction to another, lest he spend the rest of his life locked in an asylum—though solitude was preferable to being beaten bloody every other afterschool. Be true to oneself? Not an option if Sebastian and Grell wanted to survive inside the human world.

But Grell and Sebastian were no longer humans. The former had found his liberation, whereas the latter was filled with unspoken awe. And no small amount of envy. Grell knew it, too, and he understood. This was a type of pain not even the blood-lusting reaper would wish upon Sebastian.

Mindful not to lose hold on his cutlery—just in case—in spite of the intimate positioning, Sebastian finally asked, "Why are you telling me this?"

Grell giggled at the silly question, whilst his finger rose to trace the taller butler's chiseled jawbone. "I think my intentions are obvious, darling~" And ordinarily, they were, but on this one special night, Sebastian did not suspect Grell's intentions were _entirely_ sexual. Which posed an even greater question: did that crazy reaper really…love him?

It was rather cute to watch the normally-unshakable Sebastian Michaelis appear confused. Grell took pride in his ability to ruffle those raven feathers, even if his methods often disgusted the demonic prude. Alas, it was St. Valentine's Day, the proverbial day of love: to love and be loved by someone. They were wonderful feelings, but the most exhilarating of all was when one learned to love himself. It was a lesson Grell wanted to impart upon the butler whose neck he wrapped his arms around. _My valentine—my gift—to you, my love._

"All I want, Bassy," Grell spoke, rising on his toes to gently kiss the man's cheek and then whisper into the adjacent ear. "Is to make you happy, and that someday this magnificent holiday will become as treasured to you as it is for me."

**The End**

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**A/N**: I wanted to write a Valentine's Day story that wasn't ridiculously cliché, the main reason why I usually avoid valentine stories altogether. Though I enjoy (and capitalize on) our redhead's flamboyant antics as much as anyone, I do think there _is_ more to Grell than just man-chasing. ;) And I do believe Grell and Sebastian share more in common than our black butler cares to admit. Stubborn Sebby!

Happy Valentine's Day!


End file.
